And the Song will End
by AshlynDecia
Summary: Michael could not forget the smell of her hair or the color of her eyes and of the shine of her soul...Mary Winchester. But what could he do? There was more at stake than his love, and he was about to see why in the most painful way. Reviews appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

"You can't fight City Hall."

I walked over to the crumpled, bloody figure of Sam Winchester on the dusty wood floor. How easy it would be to leave him here; to avoid all of this. But that wasn't the plan. So without pausing another moment, I pressed two fingers to his cooling forehead. He disappeared in a flash of light followed by the clunk of the metal pipe, still dripping blood, on the floor.

Looking up at the hesitant man standing across the room, I slowly turned toward him. Despite our conversation, I don't think that he really understood how important he was and how much has gone into every detail of his life. The simplest things that he will always take for granted...

"He's home. Safe and sound. Your turn," I walked over to Dean and he looked at me, a million questions he would never ask in his eyes. "I'll see you soon, Dean." Carefully I pressed my fingers to his forehead and he too disappeared.

Standing in that empty living room, Devil's Traps and blood, remnants of holy oil; all scattered around me. All this pain because of one angel that decided they knew better. That is how it all started after all...

I walked over to the last body on the floor. She had crumpled slowly when I put her to sleep. Laying almost like some one had placed her, she looked so helpless and so beautiful. Skin of the softest white with hair that looked like sun rays. And her soul... so clear and strong but fierce and loyal. I couldn't help but be drawn to it; just staring softly at the beauty of this small mortal thing.

Hours passed and finally the rising sun shook me from my reverie. Gently I knelt and lifted the small woman. Even in her unconscious state, she knew the arms and she nuzzled into my chest... No, no, her husbands chest. Setting my jaw firmly, focusing on the task at hand, we disappeared in a flutter of wings.

She didn't wake when I set her in the bed. Almost forgetting, I rubbed my hand through the air over her body and any blood or dirt melted away like smoke. I made a pass over John's body as well, before pulling the too clean boots off and crawling into the bed next to her. Again, the sleep-state left her happy and she instantly turned and pulled into my side. Without thinking I wrapped my arm around her, soaking in her warmth and the smell of her hair.

I knew I should leave. I knew it was time for me to go. I had kept my promise. She was safe home and with another touch of my fingers she would never remember any of it. John, still asleep deep down, had already forgotten and was dreaming of playing catch with a young boy he had never met.

But there was something about Mary Winchester that I couldn't leave... that I certainly would never forget. No one but Uriel knew I was here. Maybe...

 _Michael, why are you on Earth?_ Raphael's deep, heavy voice echoed through my head and I rolled my eyes. Of course...

 _Nothing, just cleaning up a fledglings mess._

 _Why not get an underling to do it?_

 _I was bored. Just out stretching my wings.  
_

 _Well come on then._ I could sense the impatience and curiosity in his voice and thought better than to linger and attract his attention. Gently grazing her temple, enjoying the smoothness of her skin, I wiped the last day from Mary's mind. And deep down, suddenly a small piece of my heart broke. It wasn't that she would have remembered me fondly but now she returned to her belief that I did not exist at all.

Taking a deep breath, my soul fled that mortal man, leaving him curled around the sleeping figure of his wife, lost in his own dreams. A lone silver and white feather fluttered to the floor and in another sweep of wind from the open window, it floated underneath the bed.

* * *

"Sometime Castiel, humanity can surprise you," I said slowly as I strolled through the park with the young angel. It had been weeks since I had visited Earth but I still saw her everywhere, I felt her skin, I could still hear the thrum of her soul...

"They do seem interesting but temporary. So defined by their sickness and beliefs and dreams," he said softly, brows furrowed as he watched some of the inhabitants of Earth move through their day. We strolled through the small park in some obscure part of this planet, unseen by any here. I smiled. Indeed they did seem temporary but there was something about them that sometimes felt more permanent. Like a brand almost...

And there were her eyes again, filling every part of my vision. I stumbled a step or two, blinking hard to clear my vision.

"Michael? Are you well?" Castiel asked with concern in his voice. That is what drew me to this young angel; that and knowing the hard road ahead of him. He needed to enjoy family while he could. And again I forced that smile.

"I am well enough, thank you. Just a little distracted. Remember Castiel, humanity is full of surprises. Just when you think that they are completely understood, something can happen that will completely modify your perception again," the scrunched look on his face told me that he understood more than he was letting on. He continued to just let me talk, understanding that I was really just talking to myself.

* * *

Far to the left of that park, unseen by the archangel and the fledgling strolling through its midst there sat another angel. Long had he been beyond the reaches of heaven, living in an existence that was as varied as the rays of the sun. He smiled as he watched the two walk along.

He knew his brothers better than anyone. After all, every younger brother idolizes their older brother. While he and Michael had never been... close, Gabriel has always respected him. And honestly, feared him a little bit too.

But he could see the shadow in his brothers eyes and hear the distant quality in his voice. Michael was in love. It had been a very long time since Michael had loved anything; banishing your brother and best friend into a pit at the bottom of hell will give anyone commitment issues. But Gabriel could see what his brother was trying so desperately to hide from everyone around him.

He seemed comfortable around that nobody angel he was with... Castiel if Gabriel remembered correctly. He made a mental note to check in with that angel in a few years. But looking back at the two that had turned right and out of sight, Gabriel chuckled to himself as he left with a soft flutter of wings.

It must be a special soul indeed to catch his brothers eyes...


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry for the long delay in updates. Life - ugh._

* * *

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Although time passes differently in heaven and is barely noticeable to an angel, Michael was more keenly aware of these days and weeks than the others before them.

It was a ful time job to keep the power of heaven running. God, for all that he had been to Michael and his brothers, had been gone for a very long time. But faith was required of an angel, like blood or air to humans. So the fact that God wasn't sitting in a room secluded from his creation issuing orders to his sons was kept a secret. Michael and Raphael continued to run heaven much in the same way that their father had. He knew they had had to make... sacrifices. Some practices were... regrettable. But it was for the greater good. All part of the plan.

That blasted plan.

But the angels continued on- good little soldiers, much as they had been at the beginning of time. As long as Michael kept a firm thumb.

But in the breaths when his attention wasn't pulled elsewhere, he found his eyes drawn to bright blonde hair and genuine laughter. He tried to replay small glimpses and memories of her in his mind. But there were times when that wasn't enough. From store windows and shadows he would watch the smallest of things; grocery shopping, walking to the mailbox. Nothing was too small but it was never enough.

Yet fear underlay every secret glance or slow smile. Michael knew the plan for John and Marry Winchester. He knew the course their lives would take, the meaning behind their sacrifices. She was an integral part of the grand design.

And there had been that presence. He had been walking with a young angel Castiel. While there may only be one destination, sometimes there are different paths and trails to that point. Castiel was one of the few angels that could become instrumental in the grand plan - so Michael took time to invest in him. As he did with all potential key players; it was exhausting.

But he had let his guard down too much around this blissfully ignorant ad genuinely enjoyable fledgling. In the shadows behind them he had felt a push; a power that was strong. With forgotten and would-be gods running around the surface of the planet, there were little pushes and pulses from them constantly. However, this one had felt so... familiar. It had nagged at him and put him on edge. Was someone watching him? Guessing the thoughts he wouldn't even let himself put words to? He should put her out of his mind completely; ignore her presence and everything about her.

But he couldn't. It hurt like a knife wound to think about the steps she had yet before her. Every smile and laugh seemed like a sick joke. What was the point of all her joy now if he knew, in the end, she would die screaming? But as every laugh and smile was seared into his brain, he knew why. He knew these memories of this bright light would be the fire that pushed John Winchester down the path he must take. Into hunting... Into hell...

So Michael too horded the smiles and laughs. He longed for secret looks and careful touches, dreading the day he would feel that evil pour from the nursery in her home... He pushed it from his mind.

* * *

It was a gorgeous sunny day. John had gone to work early that morning, hoping to get off an hour or two early to help Mary finish setting up the nursery. Her delicate hand passed over her swollen stomach. Only a few more weeks and their baby boy would be here.

Mary could not put into words how she felt about her life. So much of her childhood had been soaked in fear and anger. Always fighting. Always hiding. But with John - she was free. Even if there was still that small pull in the very back of her mind.

 _This isn't real. You know this won't last. You know what you are._

But that voice was easier to silence... or at least ignore nowadays. Honestly, ever since she found out she was pregnant it had felt fuzzy- distorted. Like there was cotton gauze over those memories that blocked them and made them hard to see. However, she didn't poke of prod. She boxed them up tighter ad pushed them down further, determined to give Dean the life she had never had.

Dean.

For all the imbalance and damage her parents had done, Mary realized they only ever did what they thought best. Especially her mother, Deanna. She hadn't been raised in the life - she had fallen in love with a man ruled by the hunt. Samuel had saved her mother from a cursed object. They had been inseparable since that day. There were times that Mary had seen the weariness in her mothers eyes or felt the fear in her strong hands. But she had walked step in step with her father until the day she died. Mary missed her more every day so this little bundle of life was to be named Dean in her memory.

Mary spent hours imagining what Dean would be like. Would he be good with his hands, like John? Would he love music, old music, like she did? Would he be stubborn - like they both were? Would he be safe...

Mary wandered up to a garage sale about three blocks from home - she had taken to walking everyday just to have something to do while John was at work. She couldn't bend or lift anything so walking was one of the few things she could do to stay fit- she guessed some hunter's habits die hard.

Tables were filled with knickknacks and odds and ends. She was on the hunt for baby clothes - mechanics didn't make much but she was proud of John and never complained. There were far worse roads he could take. On the end of the furthest table there was a soft blue blanket with a little race car sewn into it. Smiling, she started to pick her way through the piles towards the end of the table.

A little boy was playing with a small toy wagon two tables over while his mother leafed through old books. With an almighty push, his imaginary rocket blasted through the meteors of boxes and lamps. Mary didn't see it as she continued on toward the blanket but she her foot stepped into the moving bin, her eyes widened with fear.

"I've got you," came a smooth voice from behind her. Tumbling slowly backwards, strong arms wrapped around her. She leaned into a firm, warm body and was slowly set back up on her feet. Heart still hammering from the close call, she turned to thank the man that had caught her. But her mouth snapped shut when she turned around. Eyes flicking around, she couldn't see anyone near her. In fact, no one around her had seemed to notice. She felt rattled and a little shaken as she took a deep breath, deciding that the blanket was not that important. She smoothed out her dress top and started to make her way back to the side walk.

As she did, her eyes caught on a small angel statue sitting alone on the table. It was smiling and staring at her. She had never been one to believe in anything more than the here and now but the sense of peace and safety she felt in that moment was almost... magical. Without really thinking about it, she fished a quarter from her small purse, handed it to the smiling older woman, and carried the little angel home.

"Angels are watching over you, Dean," she murmured, absentmindedly rubbing the little foot pressed against her stomach.

* * *

He hadn't been thinking. All he could see was her falling backwards and he reacted. No vessel on, he had pushed against the barrier of this world and slammed into her to hold her up. He had even spoken to her...

He had watched empires fall, thousands killed. There had been oceans of blood on his own hands. But he couldn't let this woman trip...

It scared him - how he felt. He knew what it meant - he knew what it could do to him. How long could he deny it? He had just risked slashing through dimensions to save her from a fall. What might he be willing to do once he fell more deeply in...

No. This ended now. It had to. It was too dangerous. Besides, he knew in a few short years his world would be destroyed by the sounds of her screams. Would he be able to ignore them? Chastising himself and making a choice to delve into any task in heaven he could find, Michael fluttered from the face of the planet. And he wouldn't walk here again for a very long time...

* * *

So it was Mary Winchester...

Gabriel chuckled to himself. Months of tailing his brother without Michael finding out, Gabriel had been shocked by the scene in the driveway of the garage sale. To become a physical force without a vessel took huge amounts of energy - so much that it could rip right through the dimensions that separated angels and humans. Michael, who never so much as had a hair out of place, had risked a pretty major catastrophe to catch a stumbling woman.

 _Mary Winchester_.

He had been out of the heaven game for a while but that name meant something... he just couldn't remember what. So in order to find out he could pop home and chat with his brothers... which might be a little awkward after a few centuries of being MIA.

Or he could float through her timeline and the timeline of her descendants. See what happened there. Yeah, it would take some major mojo. But anything was better than those dreadful family dinners in heaven...


	3. Chapter 3

_SWOOSH. THUMP._

Running his hands over his body, breathing heavily, Gabriel squeezed his eyes tight, relieved to be in one piece. That run through Mary Winchesters timeline had been one hell of a trip; a little more than he had bargained for. Apparently that wasn't a timeline that anyone could mess with because just to watch it had taken a serious toll on him. Kneeling, he breathed heavily for a few more minutes before he was able to stand. Looking around, he realized he was on a beach somewhere in the South America; nothing around for miles but sand and water.

Once his breathing evened out, he continued to stand stock still, staring at the sand. There were mortals that Gabriel enjoyed, found funny, spent time with. Rarely did he find one that he pitied as much as he pitied Mary Winchester. Her childhood had been a blur of bullets, blades and blood. It became the fire she ran from her whole life. Until she found John. Then she had done everything - literally everything, she had to to keep the fairy tale. Only to be consumed by that fire in the end.

But that was the tip of the iceberg. What was in store for her sons... Gabriel felt cold thinking about it. Suddenly that cold pity turned to a cold anger. Not only was the plan in store for the Winchester family unfair by any measures but he knew that his brother was hurting... because of that same plan.

The orders left for them; to bring on the apocalypse. So much of it hinged on this woman that his brother had fallen in love with. Gabriel had run from the confines of heaven and the demands of that celestial machine a long time ago. He was perfectly happy to continue to live and let live. But he had been in love... a long time ago. As he knew Michael had been... once. It was a rare kind of happiness and when it was ripped away, it hurt in a way that can't really be described and the wound it left behind never really healed.

Almost as if his mind shaped the spaced around him, Gabriel saw two paths in the woods to the left of him as he looked around this fallen world. At the end of the either was pain, but a different kind. Pain from never feeling the touch of love returned. Or pain from watching the one who held your heart burn. He stared long and hard at those diverging paths, contemplating the metaphorical ones in his mind.

* * *

"Michael?"

The archangel sitting on the bench didn't reply.

"Michael? Can you hear me?"

Then his eyes fluttered and he looked at the younger angel, as if just noticing him for the first time although he had been standing there for a few minutes. He looked worn, tired, distracted...

"Sorry, Josiah, what can I help you with?" his voice was thin - like he had been holding the world up on his own forever.

"Michael, you asked to see me?" Josiah shifted nervously unsure if the summons had been authentic or created, not that that made a difference. He had to obey anyways. Michael furrowed his brows for a moment before closing his eyes softly, realization dawning on his face.

"Ah, yes... sorry Josiah. I was wondering how your regiment on Earth was doing?"

"Sir?" Josiah asked confused by the question.

"How are you doing with monitoring and protecting your humans? How are they faring? How are the angels doing?" Michael asked, patience in his voice.

"All things are going well, sir. Mary," if Josiah had been an observant angel he would have noticed Michael's lips thin as he said this name, "And John Winchester are taking care of their young son Dean. She will become pregnant with Sam very soon." Josiah couldn't think of what else to report. His regiment had protected the lineage leading up to this family for centuries. Typically they stood by, watching the world consume them, keeping them alive long enough to create the next generation. Every now and then they would intervene - stop a premature death, resuscitate someone too soon deceased. Nothing major, just enough to keep the bloodline going.

But Michael knew all of this. They were carrying out his orders; they always had.

"How are things going since Annas... departure?" Michael probed.

Josiah shifted even more nervous than before. Anna had disobeyed. She had... He didn't even want to think about it. Or her.

"Fine. Castiel has taken on many of her responsibilities and is functioning adequately," his response was short and to the point, to show his discomfort for the subject. Michael seemed to understand and smiled a small, strange smile.

"Good. Fine. Thank you Josiah. You may go," Michael said not looking up at the young angel. He left, relieved, in a soft flutter of wings.

Michael sat staring at his hands as the young angel fled his company. Anna's disobedience had been one of the paths that would move the story along. It was the plot line that pulled Castiel into a pivotal role. If Michael had had any emotion to spare for the young angel, it would have been pity. The fledgling was genuine, curious, and loving. He had caused his fair share of trouble in the past but had always responded well to treatment. Michael had no doubt that he would carry out his role perfectly. But Michael had decided to distance himself from the angel as his future unfolded; he needed to stay as far away from this particular fairy tale as he could.

Remorse and longing almost tangible in the air, Michael fluttered from the bench onto another part of heaven, another task to be completed.

* * *

"Dean, heads up buddy," the deep clear voice of John Winchester rang through the backyard. About 10 feet from him a little boy who was about three was laughing and waving his hands. He had on thick corduroy pants and two heavy sweaters to keep him warm from the crisp fall air. A hat just a little too big slid down the back of his head as he waited for his father to toss the little football.

John softly tossed the brown ball sideways to his son. Giggling, eyes locked on the ball, Dean hurried up and fell on top of the ball as he lunged forward for it. John hustled towards his son, scooping him and the ball, swooping him upside down. They laughed and giggled as John jostled the little boy.

On the small back porch behind the two, there sat a woman all bundled up, sipping on a cup pouring steam. She watched her husband and son play in the back yard, smiling contentedly.

And unseen by anyone, in the trees behind their house, an angel stood watching the small family. He had watched this bloodline for generations. But he had to admit, this generation had been one of his favorites. Mary was a loving, loyal mother. John was just as loving, hard working and protective of his family. Dean was a happy child, eager to please and just as loving as both of his parents. Castiel tried not to think about the future of this family; he just enjoyed this small moment - this memory.


	4. Chapter 4

"Let me see him," she panted, a thin layer of sweat covering her. She was tired, her body wrecked, her head sore. But she could hear him, small and warbly but very vocal. Smiling with watery eyes, John carried the little wrapped bundle over to the bed. He too was exhausted; 32 hours in delivery was no joke. Crouching down, he gently slid the blanket wrapped bundle into his wifes' arms. Smiling and laughing she looked down at the crying baby. After a moment of cooing, he calmed and the cries subsided.

"Hello Sammy," she said in a soft voice, looking down at her son. He was still red and wrinkly, a smattering of curly brown hair on his head. Her heart, already full, seemed to overflow with the addition of this new little man.

"Daddy?" another little boy walked in holding the hand of a smiling nurse. He was about four years old with dirty blonde hair and green eyes. He was looking curiously at the bed where his father sat next to his mother holding this little thing.

"There's my boy," John said in a deep voice and Deans' face split into a big smile as he ran towards his fathers out stretched arms. John pulled him onto his lap as Dean shifted to look at the little bundle his mother was holding.

"Hey big brother. This is Sammy," his mom said smiling as she ran her hand over her eldest sons soft hair. Dean looked hard down at the little boy. He studied the face carefully for a few seconds before smiling.

"Hi Sammy. I'm Dean. I'm your big brother and it's my job to take care of you," Dean smiled, never taking his eyes off his new brother. John smiled big, listening to the words he told his son over the last few months. He rubbed his shoulder proudly, looking down on his boys.

In another place, in another plane there was another set of sad eyes watching the family. Determined to stay as far away from her as he could, Michael had tried not to watch Dean grow up. But every now and again he had seen a birthday party, a trip to the park, or bruised knee. And today was not a day to be missed. It was one of the happiest days in Mary's life, the day her family was complete. All her boys.

He had no pain left to spare - or so he thought. Angels don't dream but for years she had danced through his subconscious. Michael had longed for her. Lamented her destiny. But this was almost too much. Just as he had reacted on instinct at that garage sale all those years ago, he felt the pull...

Save her. Intervene. Change the story. Save her. He could do it. He could swoop in and put a stop to the destruction that was going to rip her life apart in six short months. Then a rueful smile spread across his lips. Yes, he could save her. But he would still not have her. Because to save her would be to keep her in her dream, with her family. Not with him. She still didn't even know that he existed.

"Hey there big bro," a forgotten familiar voice crept from the shadows to his right. He turned his head slowly and strolling to him was his little brother Gabriel. It had been centuries since he had seen his brother, ever since he fled heaven and the responsibility that their father had left them. But Michael didn't blame Gabriel. He would run if he could. Still, he wasn't sure how he felt to see him approaching.

"Gabriel, it has been a long time. A very long time," Michael put emphasis on the last few words. His brother didn't miss the hint and smiled.

"I know. I should have called, should have written. What can I say?" and he shrugged apologetically. Michael smiled, he had missed Gabriels' humor.

"She looks happy," Gabriel said, sharing the tunnel of vision his brother was using to look down on the Winchesters. His brother smirked.

"Yes, she does," and he scattered his hand through the cloud to dispel the vision as he turned toward his brother. "What are you doing here Gabriel?"

"I just wanted to talk to you," Gabriel began.

"Six hundred years, wars and worse. But today you want to talk?" Michael said sharply. The smile slid off Gabriel's face.

"Michael - I'm not one of your fawning fledglings. I'm not Raphael, too consumed with my own reflection to see beyond it. It's me..." Gabriel said slowly, Michael stared hard at his little brother.

"Gabriel, I have no idea..." Michael started defensively. Gabriel spun around slowly, twirling his hands casually. An opaque sphere bloomed around them; guarding them from the eyes and ears of heaven. The defensive measure stopped the flow of Michael's words.

"I know, Michael," he said firmly.

"I have no idea..." his brother began again, avoiding his brothers eyes.

"Michael."

"What, Gabriel, what?!" he was loosing his temper. Michael stood and started pacing around the rock he had been seated on. "What do you want me to say? That I love her? Fine. I love her. I love Mary Winchester. I have loved her for years now. I can't stop thinking about her. I see her everywhere. I feel her joy and her sorrow as keenly as my own. I can't block her out anymore. She is every where all the time no matter how far I run and I can't... I can't..." and Michael broke. He stopped pacing and stood, eyes downcast in front of his brother.

Gabriel hurt for his brother. He wanted more than anything to make this right. To help his brother. But it was not his place. It was not the role for any of them. To heal his brothers hurting heart would mean...

"Besides, she would never love me. Not really. I would never be her choice," his words were soft and broken but the pieces fell into place for Gabriel.

That is why his brother didn't intervene. He would sit in heaven and watch the phases of her life unfold, cloaked in tragedy and heartache. Even if he saved her, pulled her life out of the line of fire, her heart belonged to someone else.

And another light flickered in Gabriels' mind. How his brother had grown... There had been a time when Michael would lay waste to whole villages to get what he wanted. He could easily extinguish the life of John Winchester, come in and be Mary's everything. But it would hurt her. And he didn't want to be the reason she hurt - she would hurt enough on her own. He didn't want to be the cause of any of her pain.

Gabriel didn't know what to say. Was there anything that he could say to help? So they stood there for a long time, Michael finding small solace in relief of sharing his deepest, most desperate heartache. Gabriel, hurting along with his brother, wishing he could do something...


	5. Chapter 5

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!"

A green eyed, terrified child nodded at his stern, scared father. He took the screaming bundle he was handed and ran carefully to the front door. The fire felt hot on his back as he went down the stairs. There was only one thought in his mind.

 _Where is my mom?_

Dean was halfway across the front yard when he finally turned around to look at his home. The corner of his house where he knew his brothers nursery was- where there were soft blue curtains turning to ash before his eyes - was on fire. Not a small creeping fire but a huge, consuming blaze. He stared at it, awestruck. It was then that he heard the heavy footsteps of his father thundering across the porch. His eyes fell expectantly toward the sound and his heart dropped to the ground. Even at such a young age, Dean understood the look on his fathers face and felt sharply the keen loss that rolled through him.

Johns face was a mix of emotions; fury, panic, sorrow, and terror played across his visage all at once. Tearing across the dew dappled grass, he scooped his sons into his arms, slowing for only a moment before continuing his flight into the night. He managed only a few yards more before the inferno tearing through the nursery exploded, shaking the house and ground around it, knocking the Winchester family flat.

Somewhere sleepy eyes awoke in the houses next door. Somewhere shocked eyes watched the flames and smoke lick the night sky and terrified fingers dialed 911. Somewhere else entirely eyes brimmed with tears that wouldn't fall, over a heart that was already broken, feeling the sharp stab of loss and the deep dread of loss yet to come.

Michael watched as the Winchester family home was consumed in flames that would not go out. It took a long time for emergency crews to finally quell the torrent. When they did there wasn't much left of woman it had come for. Her spirit had departed hours ago, ascending to the stars, to her heaven. Most passed through the void between life and death without ever knowing, moving seamlessly from a life of love and loss to perfect paradise. Mary Winchester was not one of those souls.

She knew too much of what went bump in the night. Although her memory had been wiped long ago, in death all things were laid bare before you. Mary watched the threads that had pulled at her life before she was even born. Cords that had bound her and John. She saw what was, what would be, and what could have been. Already racked with grief at passing alone through this nightmare, what was left of her heart broke into a thousand tiny pieces, scattering across her soul like the stars that light the galaxy. Almost like a sick joke, she watched a forgotten memory, where she had met her son. Not her then-son, her future son. He was all grown, strong and bold with the same beautiful eyes and devil-may-care smile. Even in the limbo state they met, this man who passed her then in years lived looked on her face with the love and devotion only a little boy could show his mother.

All she had wanted was a normal life, away from hunting and being hunted. For a few short years she had beguiled herself into believing that she had found it. She watched her oldest son grow and learn and held this infant that would never know her as he looked onto the world for the first time. But as the fate that awaited them rolled before her eyes, as the destiny they were meant to bare became plain to her, she wished she could do it over. She wished she could run as far and as fast as she could from this fairy tale she had built. Never existing was better than bearing the burden these boys; her sons, would have to bear.

Beyond it all, she was crushed to watch the grief of losing her and the discovery of the world she had tried so hard to hide destroy John. The patient, loving, devoted man that had always believed the best was possible gave way to doubt, to fear, and to anger. It ruled his life, hand in hand with a thirst for revenge that would never be satisfied. He would train these boys for a fate he didn't know of, playing the role he had always been destined to play.

Mary turned her face from the spectacle that rolled before her, heart sick to watch what would have always been. As the shades that played the roles of her life faded into smoke, light started to build around her. Slowly the soft white light grew and grew till it was nearly blinding, coming from every direction. Then, as quickly as it had started it began to fade. But instead of the nothingness that had been behind the scenes of her life, shapes started to emerge. Slowly building and taking sharp form as the light dimmed, Mary saw trees, felt wind, and was looking suddenly upon her backyard.

It seemed to be frozen in one of her favorite moments, with weather just at the tail end of fall. There was a gentle edge in the air that coaxed you to wear a sweater but still allowed you to enjoy the watery sunlight. The wind smelled like musty, sleeping things as leaves danced just above the grass. But in that cool air, she watched her husband, frozen to look just as he had when she left him and her sons. Dean may have been 7 and Sammy was about 3. They were playing catch.

Every part of her wanted to let go of everything she had known and learned; to be consumed in the joy and tranquility of this moment- forever. But a small part of her, somewhere deep in her mind- that same part that had been whispering all these years that her life was too good to be true- was whispering now.

 _This isn't real. It will never be real. You burned..._

And this time she didn't ignore it. She clung to what she had seen, as tears rolled from her eyes. How much better- how much sweeter it would be to let go. What did it matter now? She was dead. Why not get lost in the fairy tale again? But the guilt and regret that she felt, even in death, for setting in motion the juggernaut that would rip the world apart was too strong. It fastened her to the memories she had as they ripped her apart, like white hot light burning through tissue paper.

The holes she felt searing through her soul started to appear in the world around her, burning away the images, leaving blackness behind. This went on for time beyond measure, other dream worlds trying to fill in when one burned up. Over and over the heavens of Mary Winchester seared in the stars. Later scientist would say that meteors had been smashed up in the asteroid belt; that is why sparks had danced in the distant heavens. But Michael knew.

And the pain the he felt was sharp - regret dousing every part of him. He had known, had seen that her path could go this way. That she may cling to her humanity, refusing the solace of heaven. The balming lies of the after life.

Then the tears fell; soft and slow.


End file.
